


Wake Up!

by steviemarie



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert, a little bit of grinding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steviemarie/pseuds/steviemarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your roommate wants you to help her with spring cleaning, but you're not really here for that and so she plays dirty by sending a cutie in to try and wake you. It backfires on her a bit. </p>
<p>[modern!au]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up!

**Author's Note:**

> Does this need to be mature?? I don't think it does but I'm setting it to that just in case.
> 
> Backed up from dA because I had to delete it.

Beep. Beep. Beep. What the…? Ugh. You groan into your pillow as you open your eyes and let them focus on the alarm clock next to your bed. Why? Why is it going off when you did not set it last night. It’s 8AM and it’s a Saturday morning and there is absolutely no way you are getting out of your warm, comfortable bed. It’s been a busy week and you’ve more than earned the right to sleep in and stay in bed for as long as you desire. You reach out, hitting the off switch and sigh to yourself as you remember. Yesterday evening, before she’d headed out, your roommate Christa had mentioned to you how she wanted to get a start on the spring cleaning and generally getting the apartment that you shared (apparently along with her girlfriend, Ymir, who even though didn’t share the apartment officially didn’t seem to spend a night sleeping outside of it. You’d been meaning to bring that up to Christa, actually. It didn’t bother you, because Ymir was okay, but if she was going to live in the apartment then you should probably be splitting all of the rent and general cost three ways instead of two). It looked like Christa or Ymir had decided to very kindly set your alarm so that you had no choice to get up and start helping. 

It was probably Ymir, because you and Christa had been roommates for the entirety of college, as well as this past year after graduation and you knew that there was no way she’d lived through that without gaining the knowledge that you absolutely were not one of those people who couldn’t get back to sleep after you were woken up. Quite the opposite, actually. Sure you were more than happy to help out with the cleaning when you were ready to be awake, after all, you did live in and use the stuff as much as Christa and Ymir, but you were definitely not sacrificing your sleepy morning for it. You rolled over, letting out a yawn and snuggled back into the comfort of your bed.

Anyway, before you’d been rudely awaken by the sound of the alarm, you’d been having a rather enjoyable dream about one of Ymir’s colleagues who occasionally hung out at the apartment. His name was Bertholdt Fubar and though the two of you weren’t close, you definitely enjoyed having him around the apartment because he was ridiculously handsome. As well as being ridiculously tall, ridiculously sweet and shy and had ridiculously intense eyes that you liked to think you’d caught looking at you a few times. He probably hadn’t though, it was probably the wallpaper behind you that had caught his attention.

In your dream, the two of you had been on a date at an Italian restaurant and had been getting along perfectly. So perfectly that before the stupid alarm had disturbed you, you were pretty sure you were about to have a Lady and the Tramp moment. Ugh, you really needed to stop watching so many Disney films. But you wouldn’t hate if you could dip back into the dream. You closed your eyes, ignoring the creak of your door and the low whisper of Christa’s voice asking if you were awake and let sleep wash over you again. 

“______. Hey, ______?” You were disturbed by your slumber again by the feeling of someone sitting down on your bed. That voice was… Bertholdt’s? Oh, you must still be asleep. But then… something was on your shoulder, gently shaking you. “______, are you gonna wake up?” the voice asked again. 

Please, please still be dreaming. You hated the thought of Bertholdt in your room, well no, you didn’t but you hated the idea of Bertholdt in your room unannounced when you’d just woken up and you probably looked like… well… something really, really terrifying. You risked opening one eye and looked up to see a pair of green eyes staring down at you. 

Shit. 

“Bertholdt?!” You sit up, clutching the blankets around yourself and glaring up at him. “What’re you doing in here?”

“Oh.” Bertholdt chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and stands up. “You’re awake.” 

“I’m awake.” You repeat back at him. “And you’re in my room at…” you turned a little to look at the clock. “8-15AM on a Saturday morning.” You quietly growl to yourself, something has gotta be fucking kidding you, it’s only been fifteen minutes since you went back to sleep?! “Infact why are you even in the apartment at 8-15AM?” 

“Ymir.” Bertholdt shrugs. “She text me last night and demanded that I come over because Christa needed some help cleaning on the top of the cabinets and I’m tall enough.” He paused. “And then when I got here she started yelling at me about you and demanded I come in here and wake you up, because apparently you are – in her words – as lazy as fuck.” 

You roll your eyes. Fucking Ymir, you should have known. You had a feeling she knew about your thing for Bertholdt too because you’d definitely caught her eye and seen the smirk that had crossed her face from time to time when you had people over. You shuffle in your bed, trying to get comfortable again. “Okay well, come and wake me up at about twelve, I’ll help then. Or not, even better, make it like… four.” You really wished those green eyes were not watching you intently right now, why wouldn’t he just go away and let you die of embarrassment at him having seen you like that in peace. 

“You really think that I actually wanted to be here today either?” Bertholdt snorts. “Nope, if I’m being used for free labour then you can be too. Come on ______, I’m tired too and I’m here, so you can get up.” 

You shake your head. “Nope, I’m staying here, you can go have fun with Ymir.” 

Bertholdt shakes his head, laughing. “Sorry but no, I’m not dealing with Ymir and her bossiness by herself. If I didn’t get to stay in bed then you don’t either.” 

“So get in the bed.” You retort, freezing when you realized what you just said. Well… good one ______, you’ve officially crossed the line into ridiculousness. If that wasn’t bad enough… Bertholdt actually looks like he’s considering it. Or maybe he’s just trying to come up with a witty retort to your idiocy. 

“It looks too warm, I’ll sweat all over you.” Is apparently the best that Bertholdt can come up with. He’s probably not wrong, he is a pretty sweaty dude.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to getting sweaty with you!” You quip back at him before you realize what words fall from your mouth. Holy. Shit. ______, what the actual hell is wrong with you? Bertholdt’s mouth has dropped open as if he’s trying to process if you meant what he thinks you meant and you close your eyes in embarrassment, praying for him to leave the room. Or death. You’re thinking that death might be a little less painful to deal with once he leaves and tells Ymir, Christa and whoever else they’ve dragged into this stupid spring cleaning thing. You hear him shuffle about, well, at least he’s leaving. 

And then you feel the bed shift again and the weight of Bertholdt climbing onto him. You open your eyes. Oh, okay, he was kicking off his shoes. What the fuck are you supposed to do now? He wasn’t actually supposed to get in the damn bed with you. Obviously he doesn’t know what to do either, because he just stares at you with those intense green eyes again. 

“You’re staring at me.” You blurt out. Okay, as soon as you’ve got out of this ridiculous situation that you’ve gotten yourself into, you’re going to take a vow of silence. And possibly become a nun. 

Bertholdt shrugs. “I’m always staring at you. You’re beautiful, ______.”

What. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. You… can go back to sleep if you want, I’ll… go and leave you alone. Or stay here and hold you. Whatever you want.” 

How are you supposed to go back to sleep when your heart is beating like… a million beats a minute and you’re not even sure what’s going on anymore. Bertholdt opens his mouth to say something again and instinctively you cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips, just a peck and he freezes against you. Fuck. You go to move away, to start praying for death again but he doesn’t let you.

Bertholdt pulls you back to him, pressing his lips against you and kisses you back. When he finds you responsive to it, he deepens it, his hands finding your hips and pulling them against him and groaning as your mouths partake in a wicked dance, your own arms find their way around Bertholdt’s neck. You hadn’t expected Bertholdt’s lips to feel this soft, this perfect against yours, but they did and it was amazing. And then there was his tongue, gliding across your bottom lip, begging for entrance, you can’t help but let a moan escape from you as you eagerly grant him the entrance he seeks and your tongues begin to explore each other’s mouths. You’ve never been kissed with this intensity before and you’re not sure you ever want it to end. 

And you’re pretty sure that nun plan is no longer ago.

OH. OH. No, you’re definitely sure that the nun plan is no longer ago because Bertholdt’s hands, which are still at your hips are trying to tug you ever closer as he tries to slide his bended knee inbetween your legs. You raise one of your hands to tangle into his hair as you grind your arousal against his bended knee, groaning into his mouth, your hand in his hair tugging a little harder than you’d meant to. He simply groans back into your mouth. You hear a slight creak by your door and pause for a second, panicked that someone has walked in on you. But if they had, they would have said something, so you push that thought out of your mind and grind back into Bertholdt. You know that once this is all over, the two of you are going to have to have a really, really awkward conversation, so fuck it you might as well take things a little further because this isn’t fair and you want more than to just grind against his knee. “Bertholdt,” you pull your lips away from his and look up at him, purring out. “I want you.” 

The moan from his lips at those words is probably the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard and you untangle your hand from his hair, so you can shift and run your hands down his taut chest, finding the bottom of his t-shirt and tug it over his head. You reach in for another kiss as you let your hand slide across the top of the waistband of his jeans. There’s that moan again, so you run your hand down a little further and palm against the hardness in his jeans as he gasps out your name. Oh God. You’d thought you were aroused before, but that was nothing compared to the pool of arousal you feel in your stomach now. You’re shaking a little as you reach for the button, ready to open it and give him some release when… there’s the creak again. 

Before you have time to look up and see what’s going on, you’re hit by an overwhelming, wet coldness. You’re drenched, so is Bertholdt and so is your bed. 

And there stands Ymir, an empty bucket in her hand and an annoyed expression on her face. “Are you two going to stop grunting like pigs at each other and come help us, or what?” 

“What the fuck, Ymir?!” You shriek at her. “What is even wrong with you?!” You’re shivering. “How am I supposed to get it dry in here so I can sleep tonight?!”

“Oh please.” Ymir snaps. “You can go sleep at Bertholdt’s, that way Christa and I can get some sleep without hearing… whatever was about to happen here.” She looks pretty annoyed and even though you’re really angry, you know that now is probably not the time to point out that you’d been awoken by her and Christa more than once. And once it was because she’d yelled ‘scissor me timbers’ really very loudly. 

“You can sleep at mine.” Bertholdt says quickly, he knows Ymir too well to join in the argument. “Ymir got everything soaked. You’ll get sick otherwise.”

Ymir narrows her eyes at him. “Seems like you’d already gotten ______ pretty soaked before I got here.”

**Author's Note:**

> The scissor me timbers thing is from South Park, oops. 
> 
> I have Tumblr, come prompt me or something: steviebutt.tumblr.com


End file.
